Broken Ends
by therentyoupay
Summary: COMPLETED. The reunion after Bella's transformation. — Bella & Jacob and Bella & Edward.
1. Jacob

**A/N: **Revised this. I realized that I definitely rushed this first part and that I needed to go back and give it a little more of the attention it deserved. D: Sorry about that.

Part [1 of 3

&

"_Should I come back to see you?_" she had asked me.

I tossed a rock out into the water, barely noticing that it had flown much faster and much farther than I had originally intended. There was a barely audible chinking sound in the distance, of it colliding with something out on the horizon. I vaguely hoped that it wasn't a boat or something.

"_Or would you rather I didn't?_"

I made a sound, something gruff and short that sounded like an odd, squished combination of a snort and a scoff. When I thought about it, Bella would have laughed at me, probably, had she heard it. It would have launched some argument about who had the more obtrusive lack of manners and inevitably, there would be no winner, but that wouldn't have mattered. I went to toss another rock, but this time all I could manage was to let it plop down noisily about twenty feet away in a herd of waves.

Bella, when she asked me, had only been referring to visiting me while I recovered from saving Leah from the new born vampire, naturally. That was her immediate concern then, making sure I was going to be okay with my physical injuries. Wanting to check on me to see if I was still alive, comfort me, trying in whatever way she could, I suppose, and just generally wanting to lessen some of the damage we'd both inadvertently inflicted on ourselves.

But after she left that day, leaving me to remain in bed with apologies and words of her regretful love that neither one of us could escape, I wondered if there was more to her question.

Was she really only asking if I wanted her to come back over the next few days to check on my broken bones and scrapes? I kicked a stone across the beach, thinking intently and feeling grateful that my thoughts were still private in my human form. I couldn't figure this out.

Was that really all she'd been asking? Or was she talking about something else... alluding to some time farther in the future when it wasn't just broken ribs and a few bumps that she thought needed looking after. Had she been asking that question, with a time frame in mind where my physical vulnerability would be the least of my concerns and I'd be far more distracted with other matters?

Matters, perhaps, like the ones I was most concerned about now, knowing that today was the second anniversary of her transformation. A time frame, like now, I suppose, where all I can bear to think of her as is dead.

Another stone went flying.

I fell down to the rocky sand beneath my feet, sprawling myself across its jagged edges, which merely prickled my back. The sky was still as gray and cloudy from this angle, though I hadn't expected anything different.

It was awful last year. Plain awful. I had sat on the cliff for ages, doing nothing and saying nothing, trying with all my might to _think _nothing. Allowing yourself to be blank was too easy when you already felt empty.

Granted, it wasn't like that when she first left. When she moved, abandoning Forks and all of its inhabitants before the bloodsucker did his dirty work on her "honeymoon," I didn't say goodbye. I couldn't. She came to La Push, looking for me, knowing that both of us were well aware that it would be the last time we'd meet as two living, breathing beings and I couldn't stand it. It would have killed me.

And so I fled to the woods to escape, not returning even when she came to find me and cried out my name through the trees, having followed me into the darkness in attempt to have one last time together. Part of me wanted to, wanted to run to her more than anything in the entire world. But I wouldn't have been able to let her go. I know that. And so, no matter how many of her tears I heard fall to the ground, I didn't give myself the chance of seeing her, of stopping her.

It was impossible to tune out her cries, my name echoing through the forest from her sobs. I cried too, but it was silent as she wove in and out of the trees, inaudible to her and the rest of the world. What was the point of a goodbye? Would it prove that what I was doing was right, that letting her be with the leech was what would be better for both of us?

What was the point? We both knew she was leaving—why torture ourselves with tears and talk of how we were both sorry that things didn't work out, things that I honestly didn't need any reminders of? I had given up trying to change her mind a very long time before that point, back when I had received the invitation—ugh, the _wedding_—and I could only resort to waiting for a miracle and trying to stay by her side for as long as I could. I hadn't even planned on going to that stupid thing.

&

_Two Years Earlier  
_

"You're not even _going_?" Leah snarled.

My fingers dug themselves into the dirt, burrowing little holes into the ground beside me, but aside from that, I didn't show any sign of having heard her.

"After all that crap about the invitation? What with you running off into the woods to hide for a month?" Leah scoffed. "Why'd you even come back now, if you're only just going to sit around and mope in front of all of us?"

I stared at the water.

Leah scoffed again, laughing derisively. "That's what I thought," she said, and walked away.

I sat there quietly for awhile longer, my fingertips still lost in the miniature craters they had dug themselves into as I felt oddly reminiscent of a time month before, when we had been in these same exact locations discussing the same damn thing. Before Leah came and interrupted, I had been trying to make myself understand some things, and now I couldn't think straight about anything. Not even the idea of launching Leah off the cliff entertained me.

But she had a point. An unbelievable feat that I would never think of again (especially during transformation) lest she realize it and bring it upon herself to intensify her already over-inflated egocentric attitude, but a fact that was a considerable point, nonetheless.

I really didn't know why I chose to come back now, of all times. I don't know why I chose to turn around at that particular moment in the woods, turn around by that certain tree, turn aback at that exact second, and run back to La Push yesterday… I didn't even know that the wedding was so soon. Truth is, attending this ridiculous thing today would make everything seem more… official. It would be one more slice of permanence of her being lost to me forever. She wouldn't be my Bella anymore. She wouldn't be _Bella _at all.

I leaned back onto the ground, rubbing my closed eyes with the heels of my hands. When I opened them, the sun's stinging rays glared down at me, burning and blurring my vision. I scowled back at it, the annoying thing, before sitting up sharply and turning my own glare elsewhere.

Her personal sun, I remembered. That's what she had called me.

_Ha_.

I crossed my arms, resting them on my knees as I tried to make up my mind. There was no point in going to it. My scowl deepened as my logic continued on. Absolutely none. It would be a waste of my time, in fact. I already know what's going to happen, so what if I didn't actually care to see it play out horrifically before my eyes?

The sun continued to glare at me, burning into my already burning skin. I turned to the side. I wasn't going, I decided, as a breeze whipped my hair into my eyes. I shook away my hair absentmindedly, only to have the breeze whip it back into place. Unable to contain my low growl of frustration, I shook my head again, more fiercely than before and slapped it away with my hand. It had grown out to my shoulders during the month that I'd been away and I was beginning to think that the longer strands had overstayed their welcome.

I stood up, heading towards the direction of the house and was already beginning to wonder where the scissors had gone to when I suddenly remembered why the annoying hair had gotten so long in the first place. I stopped walking, pausing to reach up and move a clump of hair out in front of my eyes.

_I was growing my hair out because… it seemed like you liked it better long._

My hand tightened around the dark clump of hair, so tight that it was lucky that I didn't just pull it out by the roots. I should just go in and chop it all off now, I decided. Shave it off to the shortest my hair could go and never let it flow freely again. I had taken three steps in pursuit of the scissors when I stopped again, to examine my hair a second time. The breeze moved the strands quietly between my fingers and I could almost hear Bella's voice in the wind, telling me that my decisions shouldn't be based off something as silly as her. _Really, Jake_, she would have said, laughing at me. _It's just hair. You don't need me to decide what to do with it._

I didn't know where it came from. I wasn't even sure if it made sense. All I knew was that I thought I heard Bella's voice, clearly in the wind. I looked around instinctively, half-expecting her to be standing behind me. Before I could stop it, my mind had created a vision of Bella sprinting along the line of trees in a dirty wedding gown, her hair having fallen down from the rush to see me, to tell me that she couldn't marry Edward, that she couldn't leave me, and that it was me that she would be with forever. But of course, even before I looked up, I knew that wasn't true.

My hand dropped to my side again, but this time I didn't make a move for the house. Instead, I turned to the sky, trying to measure the exact placement of the sun. I assumed that it was only just a little past noon…

Without warning, I turned and raced in the other direction. When I reached the edge of the trees, I shed my ripped jeans, just barely taking the time to make sure that they were securely attached to the band on my ankle and with one giant leap, I transformed, continuing on in a sprint. This was against all of my better judgment, I realized, but now my questionable logic was aided in my animalistic instincts, something I was not about to ignore.

When I arrived, I slowly made my way toward the designated area, making sure to stay silent… I wanted to remain hidden among the trees and well out of sight. As I approached, I wondered if that bloodsucker could smell me yet. I frowned, feeling my long, heavy mouth fall into an unpleasant position. With my enhanced vision, I could just barely make out his form, standing at the front in a hideous black tuxedo that made his filthy white skin burn my eyes from the contrast. He didn't give any indication of having noticed my presence as he watched some little unfamiliar girl skip down the aisle, shedding petals as she went, but I was positive that he knew I was there.

My eyes raked through the set up with immediate dislike. All biases aside, it was obvious that Bella'd had no part in any of it, especially not the rose sculptures which rivaled the size of Sam in his wolf form. It was ridiculous, how wrong this was for Bella—she would want something simpler, something less flamboyantly conspicuous and more modestly elegant. I didn't want to admit it, but the psychic had at least understood Bella's need for the outdoors, and did manage to have it take place outside. But Bella would have wanted a sunnier day—at a beach perhaps, possibly down at La Push. Bella would have wanted less people to be there, for there to be less of a commotion. She would have wanted—

I paused. I knew Bella. I knew exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. I knew it more than she did. I knew it because what Bella wanted was everything I wanted. All except for one tiny detail.

For her to spend the rest of her life with me.

I was about to leave, suddenly finding it hard to swallow with such a deep, fur-coated throat, and made as if I was going to turn around when I heard it: the hymn that had every pair of eyes within hearing range turn towards the end of the aisle.

I paused mid-step to look back and see Charlie come into view, looking both inconceivably overjoyed and mildly annoyed simultaneously, the latter especially when he turned to face the groom at the altar. Something inside of me screamed to leave then, while I still had the chance, to just run and run and run away, but I didn't.

There she was. My lungs, which had been full of air a moment before, deflated instantaneously. My frown transformed into a gaping expression of unadulterated shock and my dark eyes suddenly ran dry from my newly acquired inability to blink. It was obvious how nervous she was, having all of those eyes watching her and her alone. Through the misty haze of my non-functioning brain, I realized with a small laugh that she was probably doing everything in her power to keep from stumbling. A small blush began to plague her cheeks as she took in the hordes of people surrounding her, to whom she offered a tentative smile. She uttered a small, nervous laugh and I was lost. There were no words.

I sat down on the leaves, enraptured in the process of her slow walk down the aisle. Even just seeing her so dressed up, it was... unnatural. Prom was the only time I could think of where she even remotely looked like this and even that seemed completely insignificant in comparison. At prom, Bella was, well, sort of beautiful, as I had thought then. But now, she… well, she _glowed_.

I watched the proceedings in a daze, only catching bits and pieces of sentences that I didn't quite understand. After Charlie released her at the altar, I couldn't focus on anything else but her. From the way she stared intently at the man speaking to the way she shifted from foot to foot, a sure sign of her anxiety of having to be up at the center of attention for so long, I was positive. Only Bella could be worried about clumsiness when doing nothing but standing absolutely still, I thought, with a smile. Again, my mouth felt heavy.

And suddenly, the bloodsucker and she turned towards one another. It took me a moment for my mind to register the change, but I wished I hadn't, as soon as it sunk in. The bloodsucker's voice, sickeningly smooth, rang clearly: "I do."

The man began speaking again and I stood up, leaning towards the clearing head of me. I could hear every word that was released from his mouth, but none of them made any sense. I continued staring at Bella, who only saw _him_.

The man stopped speaking, waiting for Bella to answer. For a second, I was sure that she wasn't going to, that she would shake her head and apologize and walk back down the aisle in her flowing gown and find her obnoxious truck, which would take her back to La Push. But instead, she only smiled.

"I do."

The man said something else, but it was unintelligible. I remained frozen, my muscles still taut as I crouched over in strict attention to the proceedings, but when they leaned in to close the ceremony in the most traditional of manners, I jerked my body around in the opposite direction, tearing through the forest and leaving the cheers and applause behind.

My throat burned the entire way back, but I never once let up my pace. I needed to get away, get back to La Push, to anywhere, just to try to pretend that things hadn't actually happened, that my Bella wasn't—she _wasn't_—that she wasn't currently Bella _Cullen_. The thought made my body shake, screaming to release its murderous beast, despite my newly-acquired, stronger sense of self-control.

I shook my head roughly as I ran, growling at the trees, and sped up as I reached the La Push territory. I raced past the cliff, past the house, past the beach and off deeper into the forest. It appeared that Sam had had common sense enough to forbid anyone to phase, for which I was grateful, but the thanks was short-lived as I found an empty cave at the top of a mountain. I circled trees for hours, growling and tearing down branches periodically, sporadically, brutally. I didn't realize when it had become dark.

I don't remember how long I had been running through the woods before I heard her voice call out through the forest. She sounded terrified, desperate, and at once I wanted to run down to her, to protect her from danger, but… I hesitated.

"Jacob!" she screamed, her voice breaking. "Please, Jacob!" I thought I heard a sob.

I raised my front paw a few inches, prepared to move at any given moment, but still, I could not go to her.

She probably just changed out of her wedding dress, I imagined. Her hair might still be set in place, up in the soft and shining style I saw her walk down the aisle in, hours ago. Her face could still be radiant from the activities of the day, her face glowing in the beginning of the moon's glittering rays. Her lips may be swollen from the—

_No_. I couldn't handle it. What difference was it going to make, whether or not I was there when she left? My wide nostrils flared and I turned away sharply, exhaling loudly into the cold air. She was going to leave anyway, whether or not I was there to say goodbye. I wasn't that important.

"Jacob!" She screamed. "Jake, where are you?"

We both knew she was leaving, what she would become… another final meeting wasn't necessary. Why bother? I wondered. What difference will it make? A low growl rumbled in the back of my throat. I knocked down a tree with my front left paw.

"Jacob?" she called again, louder this time, though it sounded no closer. I could sense her near the edge of the forest, wandering around aimlessly in some dim hope of finding me. "Jacob, please, I need to see you!"

I shut my eyes against her voice. No, no, no, no, no, no, _no_.

_I can't, Bella._

"Jacob!" She sounded like she was on the verge of hysteria. "Jacob, _please_!"

_It would kill me_.

"Jake!" It was as if I could hear her tears falling to the ground. "_Jacob_!"

I shook my head frantically, running off to tear down another tree to stop myself from howling.

"Please!" She was sobbing harder.

_No, Bella, don't you understand, you stupid girl? _I sliced the tree in half. _I can't—I_ can't _come down—I wouldn't be able to let you go. Don't you see that?_ The tree began to vaguely resemble woodchips._ You idiot, just go—just leave before I make sure that you can't—Bella, just _leave, _dammit!_

"_Jacob_!" she sobbed. "Jacob, please, I just—" It was getting harder to hear her. "I'm sorry, I just want to—oh God, please, _Jacob_!"

_Just leave, Bella. You made your decision. _

"Jacob!"

_And I've made mine._

"_Jacob_!"

_And now we both have to live with it._

"Jacob, _please_!" She screamed. "Jacob, I need to talk to you—Jacob, this could be it, the last time I—please, come down!" Her sobs broke through the trees. "_Jacob!_"

But I'd stopped listening.

&

_Present  
_

That night is still a little hazy to me. When she finally gave up, after who knows how long, I crawled into the cave and transformed back into my human self, releasing everything into its depths. My screams reverberated off its walls, my fist graced its form with new cracks and dents. My agony filled its entire volume and spread into the darkness as my tears washed away its dirt. My loss saturated its cold air.

I didn't leave for a few days. I don't remember much about that time, just knowing with an unfathomable sense of unbearable certainty that Bella was somewhere out there, at that exact moment, feeling a different kind of pain. A sort of pain where all of her life was leaving her body, being replaced by filthy, bloodsucker venom and poisoned with evil. I told myself I could have stopped it, I might have been able to save her, had I only just told her goodbye and _tried_ to change her mind, but I knew that is was a lie. She really did belong to the bloodsucker now. For eternity.

Bella was no more.

When I did emerge from the cave, it was awhile before I spoke to anyone again. I found that my control slipped away more easily than ever and I avoided my brothers and sisters, if only to spare them the anger I couldn't help but unleash upon them. Anger wasn't the word for it. _Pissed _wasn't the word for it. There wasn't one.

They gave me time, patiently waiting for my rage to subside, even upholding the treaty with the bloodsuckers after their broken promise, so as to let me cope without distraction. I was even more furious at first, but couldn't bear to leave my isolation. Eventually, I stopped transforming when the others had, not because I didn't want them to hear my thoughts, but because I didn't want to hear _theirs_. Leah's voice, which never stopped ringing in my head, was already bad enough.

_Time to move on, boy._

I could have killed her every time I thought of it.

The worst part was that it took me forever to fully realize what I was angry at—specifically—of course I knew I had every right to be furious, but… I hated everything. I hated the world in general, for beings so screwed up... for wreaking so much havoc in such a small town and with such innocent lives, for one. The bloodsuckers, of course, for ruining everything I'd ever loved. _Especially _Edward, whose name I couldn't so much as think of thinking about without destroying something for many months.

But I felt that there was more than that, like every time I struck something, it wasn't just the bloodsucker or some impenetrable force working its eccentric plan over us that I wished I was hurting… I shuddered to think that it might be Bella, but as time passed, I realized that it was exactly her who my fury was directed the most at. The bloodsucker tricked her, seduced her into wanting a shadow of a life, but it was _Bella _who agreed to it, who allowed herself to be sucked into his disgusting grasp and then furthermore, allowing herself to become addicted. She was strong enough to resist, but the prospects he placed in front of her made her grow weak, until she was finally gone.

But still, that was nothing compared to the anger I had felt for myself. An anger that not even my hatred for the bloodsuckers could compete with.

It was months before my fury dissipated. It went gradually, step by step, until I was able to start considering myself somewhat back to normal again. I wasn't going to be like Bella, I told myself. I wasn't going to stay attached or addicted to someone who may never return. I had loved Bella, loved her more than anything, but I wasn't going to allow her absence to ruin my life. I was stronger than Bella, I realized, as I shifted away from my longing and resentment and started looking back to the other aspects of my life. Things that I had long ago forgotten.

The pack welcomed me back immediately, though remained cautious for awhile. I understood their wariness, but gave them no reason to concern themselves over my well-being. With every strip of anger being peeled away from inside me, a smooth block of ice formed in its stead.

My thoughts of her grew less frequent as the days went by and soon I was mostly preoccupied with thoughts of graduation, of perfecting my knowledge as a mechanic, and wrestling with Quil and Embry. I could smile and laugh again and everything was okay. It was only on certain nights, if I passed by the cliff or our tree, that I might feel a pang of remorse, something that I quickly squashed.

It came time then, as I continued on moving toward greater things in life, that I began to feel nothing for her altogether. It was a hard task, numbing myself, but I accomplished a lot in a short amount of time, ignoring memories of her and forcing myself to forget whatever feelings of joy she had given me. I had grown so strong that not even Charlie could arouse my sadness. Not even when he informed my family that he had received another e-mail from her, talking about the wonders of Dartmouth or how she was apologizing for another postponed visit. She'd changed me. My control was unbelievable.

But what now?

"_Let me know if you want me to come back, and I'll be here_," she had promised, the last day I ever truly spoke to her.

She was coming back.

But I didn't want her to.

I was through. I had rid myself of everything when she left and the last thing I needed was for her to return and try to create it all again, reigniting whatever mess she had left me in. I looked at Bella as an experience, a lesson. She taught me how to survive, how to control myself, and how to rid myself of the dangerous feelings I knew would hurt me. I didn't hate her—no, never hate—but I wasn't angry with her anymore either. That had died long ago, with all of the other emotion I had stored for her.

It seemed, however, that she needed to visit Charlie in Forks for once, especially since she had only seen him a few short times over the past two years. Charlie had explained those reunions as particularly odd, as she always seemed to be in the midst of a cold whenever he arrived at Dartmouth, but his happiness at seeing her always overpowered his curiosity. Billy and I never felt the need to clarify the peculiarity of her situation for him.

I picked up another stone, lazily tossing it from my spot on the ground. I wasn't even sure if it made it to the water this time. I sighed, suddenly thinking back to my current question at hand. Was she secretly asking me about this as well? My face contorted into a scowl, though I think it might have been more curious than irritated. Will she try to face me now?

I tried to imagine a white figure before me, resembling Bella but never able to truly be her, standing erect and regal and emanating such a repulsive scent that my nose would burn from the proximity. Her alabaster face would glow with death, beautiful and serene, her strangely-colored eyes shining in ways that were beyond surreal.

The image was horrifying.

For a brief second, I felt sick. I thought my stomach was going to suddenly heave all of its contents out onto the sandy beach and that someone had just submerged my head in the water. One second I was all curled up, doubling over on my side and grimacing against the pain and the next, I was normal, my brief lapse of control coming quickly to an end.

Taking a deep breath, I stood, feeling the energy around me surge with heat as I released my thoughts. It was only a second before I could picture her again, cold and dead and in front of me, without any emotion.

"There," I said, to myself, smiling smugly in satisfaction. "Come on and visit, _bloodsucker_." My smirk turned dark. "There's nothing you can do to me anymore."


	2. Bella

Part [2 of 3

&

"Oh—oh _no_."

"What is it?" Edward whispered back.

I didn't answer right away, choosing instead to roll over to my other side to examine the damage. I touched the bracelet on my wrist gingerly, inspecting it carefully. The tiny wolf charm, still dangling from the silver, remained intact.

"Well?" Edward asked gently, slowly stroking the edge of my bare shoulder with his fingertips. I sighed.

"No, don't worry," I turned onto my back quickly, but kept my eyes on the wall across the room. "it was just... another false alarm." Edward remained still for a moment, before nodding slowly.

"I see," he said.

"I'm sorry," I said, the guilt in my voice sounding painfully familiar. "I didn't mean to—"

But Edward placed his hand over my mouth before I could finish.

"It's all right," he said. And with a gentle smile, I believed him. I returned the favor.

I turned back over on my side again, leaning my back against his chest. It was silly, I knew, for us to be… reenacting such human habits as sleeping, but I missed it. Even though I could see the sun's rays peeking through the heavy curtains, clear indicators of it being broad daylight, the thought of resting peacefully in Edward's arms for hours on end, with no one else around... It held an appeal that nothing else had. Well. Almost nothing, as Edward reminded me with a lingering kiss in the crook of my neck.

But once Edward had settled back into his comfortable position, I quietly raised my wrist up closer to my face, to get a better look. My senses had strengthened exponentially, but I was still accustomed to the habits of my mortality, quirks and gestures that I had taken for granted before, I suppose. There on my wrist, encased in the blackness, sat my tiny little wolf charm, its chestnut hue always darkly gleaming in the moonlight. It stared back at me silently as I stroked its hard fur, before gently—ever so _gently_, barely at all, lest I break it—touching the tip of its tail.

I hadn't realized the fragility of the world through a vampire's eyes until I experienced it myself. Edward hadn't been kidding, obviously… not that I ever thought he was. At first, I was afraid to wear the bracelet, convinced that my clumsiness—which apparently failed to leave me when my mortality did—would allow me to lose it or break the tiny, little fragment of wood. It took days before I could even look at it again, let alone wear it and even then, I regarded it with the utmost caution. Edward was amused by my antics initially, but I could tell that the greater my concern became, the greater his became as well.

At one point during my first year, when I had started to grow confident in my strength, I had lost it. I was playing baseball with the Cullens one night for the first time in our new home, immortal style, and feeling completely liberated in all of my new form that I failed to notice when the intense running was finally too much for the poor, tiny clasp, and my miniature Jacob fell to the ground, without a sound to my sensitive ears. It was only hours later, when I had returned to the new house with Edward before the break of dawn (I had not yet ventured out into the sun in my new form, for our neighbors were closer than we'd have liked and were not prone to taking vacations), that I realized that the only object attached to my bracelet was the diamond Edward had tricked me into accepting.

I think if Edward's heart had still been beating, it would have stopped at the sound of my gasp. It was short and almost inaudible, but the sound cut through the comfortable silence as if I had slashed through it with claws… I no longer needed oxygen to survive, but suddenly, I remembered the horrific feeling of suffocation. Edward rushed to my side immediately, begging to know what was wrong, but the words could not escape my lips. I merely traced the circumference of the bracelet with my pale fingertips, hoping that it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, that it was really there, but my new eyes had not adjusted to their surroundings just yet. To no avail.

Edward understood immediately, though he displayed no reaction other than comprehension. Now, looking back on it, I can only imagine what could have been going his mind then. He told me once, months later, that he constantly feared that I had made the wrong choice. That it was Jacob, not himself, who I should have married and should have chosen to spend the rest of my life with. As much as I have assured him that that is clearly not at all the issue, my episode with the lost Jacob figurine has left him unconvinced. I think it will take years for him to believe me.

When I had finally regained my ability to speak, it had still unfortunately left me inarticulate. The only words I could manage, in no particular order were, "Jacob," "lost," and "no." Edward brushed his fingers through my hair, soothingly, as I could expect from my beloved, but it only managed to provoke a dry sob. I looked at him then, not entirely knowing what to think, but something in my eyes must have held some sort of plea, for Edward stepped aside, allowing me to bound through the door for the woods, with him close behind.

I spent hours that day searching. It is one thing, when you are human, to find a missing object, for the path that you've traveled is never too far and the possibilities limited (not that I ever really appreciated that fact when I did lose something, back when I still had a beating heart). Now, not only could I not remember every place I'd run to during our game, but I realized that, had I been able to, I still would not have been able to have a clear idea of where the little wolf could be… I had been going far too fast and running much too erratically that it could have whipped off in a different direction as I made a too severe turn or came to too much of a screeching halt. My hopelessness was endless.

I didn't even realize when the sun began to rise, spreading its new rays through the thick branches and kissing my skin. Edward had told me that he'd tried so hard to help me look for it, this little piece of wood that obviously meant a great deal to me, but apologized, saying that he was so distracted by the patches of shimmering skin along my body and my oblivion to this new development that he wasn't very much help at all. Even my glittering complexion wasn't enough to divert my attention for very long. I stared at my glowing fingers, arms, and legs for but a few moments, taking in this unfamiliar sight, before I was reminded of my task at hand when the sun glinted off the millions of multi-colored facets of the lone charm on my wrist.

Finally, I had to stop. It was not exhaustion that brought my search to an end, for honestly, fatigue was no longer a concern of mine. Instead, it was the general hopelessness that I felt in not only having lost my personal sun, but in having lost the only physical piece of him that I had left. Even seeing the real sun again, bright and stinging to my golden eyes, for the first time since I had left Forks, did nothing to lessen my sadness.

Edward and I returned to the house in silence. I didn't know what to say to him. Not only had I just lost my only shred of Jacob Black, my personal sun, but caused Edward, my love for eternity, to be concerned as well. It seemed that my knack for torturing my loved ones had not died along with my body either.

Edward held me for a long time then. I only remember hearing, "just lay down for awhile now, don't worry," he had whispered. "I'll be right back." So much in a daze was I that I followed his orders, laying on our bed, not even bothering to slip under the covers (as I normally did, out of pure habit) while waiting for him to return.

I don't know how long it was before he came back, only that the sun was starting to set when I felt his slender fingers trace my spine. I turned to him, prepared to apologize for doing the selfish, immature, and ultimately Bella-ish thing that I did, when, right before my eyes, he placed the tiny wolf on my pillow. I stared at him in genuine, unadulterated shock, but before he had time to explain himself, I launched off the bed into his arms to kiss him with such fervor that, had I been human, I would have most likely have given myself a concussion. After a million apologies and a million words of "thank you," Edward and I settled back down the next morning to feign sleep, merely relishing in being in each other's arms. I haven't stopped worrying about my little wolf charm since.

"Maybe you should visit," Edward whispered suddenly, the soft sound pulling me from my reverie with a snap of my head. "It might be for the best. "

"Edward," I pleaded, feeling the remainder of my words lodge themselves in the back of my throat as he held up a single finger against my lips.

"We'll leave as soon as possible," he declared sullenly, forcing the tiniest of smiles to his perfect lips.

"But—"

"That's final."

I lowered my head down to the pillow slowly, finding myself at a loss for what else to say. Edward merely looked down at me, knowingly, understandingly, in that perfect manner that no one could ever match. And again, for the one hundred and twenty-three millionth time, I asked myself what had I ever done, in any lifetime, to deserves such a beautiful creature?

And without any warning, I lifted myself up and kissed him.

"Thank you," I whispered, pulling back just the tiniest bit. He only laughed and leaned in again.

But as I could feel his fingers beginning to sweep themselves over my shoulders, something that had been haunting me since my wedding day resurfaced. I tried to stop myself from tensing, but it was futile to try to hide it. Edward froze immediately, pulling back only enough to see my face. "What's wrong?" he asked me. I didn't answer right away.

"It's just—" I paused, taking a deep breath out of sheer, mortal habit. I vaguely wondered if Edward was ever annoyed at my still-human antics, now that I had changed… or, maybe, if they ever made him sad. I looked up at him. "What if he doesn't… _want_ to see me?"

Edward said nothing at first. He only brushed his fingers through my hair. I wondered if he was remembering the horrible sound of my pointless, futile cries to Jacob in the woods, as I was.

"You're still Bella," he whispered gently. "And you will always be. You may have changed in the past few years, but… the Bella that both he and I know very well hasn't left this body at all." He leaned in closer, barely touching my lips at all. "And no one can ignore that."

I yielded to him as he slowly pushed me back down to the bed with his lips, surrendering once more with the vague, discontented realization that he hadn't answered my question.


	3. Edward

**Author's Notes: **1) I'm sorry this is so unbelievably late, I really have no excuse other than real life, 2) sorry if this gets confusing with the dialogue and all the italicizing, I hope it ends up making sense, 3) sorry for the lesser quality of this one, especially near the end, my brain is going to explode if I waited any longer to take care of this, and 4) sorry for not really exploring the possibilities of what's going to happen with Bella's own special powers or what's going happen with her newborn self craving blood and murder and whatnot. This is the longest running story I've ever taken on (pathetic, right?) and my brain can't tolerate much more of this one topic without going insane. Obviously, this is not what's going to happen in the book (Which! I don't own! **DISCLAIMER**), but it's sort of what I can imagine happening, I suppose. Enjoy. :D

&

It wasn't as I expected.

But to be fair, I didn't have many expectations to begin with. And to be truthful, not much about life—or death—is fair.

To say I was worried about Bella on the journey back to Forks is too grand of an understatement to be considered one. "Worry" seems like such an inadequate word in my centuries-old vocabulary and yet it was so common from her mouth during that trip that its despicable existence will be stuck in my mind forever. "Don't worry," she had repeated over and over. "Don't worry about me" was the string of nonsensical words that flowed from the softness of her mouth and the perfection of the song that is her voice. How could I not worry? How could I not be worried as we made the journey "home," be worried at the sight of her blazing eyes, glazed over with the reflection of passing dead trees and wilted, frozen flowers shining within them, or at the sight of her long, white, nimble fingers absentmindedly worrying the tiny wooden fringes of the wolfen charm on her wrist, or at the sight of her barely visible sharpened tooth worrying her perfect lips. Worry was inevitable.

We took the train. Bella is obsessed with maintaining mortal habits—feigning sleep, using public transportation, eating what little human food she can muster—way beyond the realm of keeping up appearances, though she can't admit it. I don't argue with her or discourage her from trying to retain her hold on humanity... I knew the same restless, disorienting feeling of losing it all too well. It always worries me, when I wonder if she made the right choice by relinquishing that hold. It worries me when I wonder what will happen when her will to continue her imitation of mortality will inevitably fade—as all of ours did—and all she is left with is the cold, hardened shell of life that I reduced her to. I worry not about "if" she will regret giving her life to me; I worry about when. Regret, like worrying, is inevitable.

I remember reaching for her hand on the train—her hand accepted it, held it, welcomed it, but her heart didn't notice it. Her heart was out in the woods searching for the naïve dog that I'd stolen her from, out beyond the trees in the depths of the forest beckoning Jacob Black to return her call. I had captured her heart with my icy embrace, contained it with a golden ring, and trapped it within a endless prison of death, but it should never have been mine to take. Bella stared out the window the entire trip, out into the dying forest.

When she stepped off the platform and onto the concrete floor of the train station, Bella was for just but a moment, unrecognizable. I had gotten off first, so as to help her off the final step and make the leap to cement, but when I looked up, my hand outstretched in an offer of assistance, I realized with a terrible suddenness that she really didn't _need _my help. She didn't me at all, not anymore, not like she used to.She took my hand and offered me a smile in return, but it was only to humor me, I gathered. She was amused by my traditional gentlemanly antics and my outdated sense of chivalry and thus, she acquiesced, but she made the final leap off the step all on her own. I stared at her for a few long moments after she released my grasp and continued to retrieve her luggage, ignoring the inquisitive looks from the other passengers exiting the train as I realized that this beautiful creature in front of me wasn't the clumsy, uncertain young girl I had known before, but a mystifying womanly creature full of undisputed grace and poise, full of a sense of subtle confidence that I had never noticed before.

"_Come on, Edward_," she had scolded me jokingly, noting the way I was blocking the exit. _"Security will be here any minute, with you causing a disturbance like this_."

And just like that, it was over. Bella had never really left me, but for a horrifying moment, I had the overwhelming fear that she was going to come to her senses and realize that—now more than ever—I was far less worthy of her than she could ever imagine. I didn't deserve her when she was alive. I don't deserve her now, now that I've killed her.

I had ignored those feelings for as long as possible, even after the transformation, but with the prospect of being surrounded by memories of her life, by being in her original environment, and by being around those who had known her before... well, before she met me, I couldn't avoid thinking about the deeper consequences of my actions any longer.

I've always worried about what this death would do to her; it was all I could—all I _can—_think about. I love her too much. But there had always been a certain level of consideration that I've pushed away, a particular extent that my selfishness never let my mind reach. I watched Bella more closely than I'd ever watched her before that day. Not a single movement escaped my sight.

I noticed that her hands no longer shook from nerves. Here we were, arriving in the one place that she'd longed to see and dreaded seeing for years and her hands were as still as the quiet before a storm. Bella's hands had been known to shake, known to tremble with fright or excitement, known to gesture and point and wave, but now they merely swayed at her sides, in perfect conjunction with her steps.

"_Goodness, Edward," _she turned and told me. _"No one would ever guess how fast you can really run by how slowly you're dragging your feet along now." _I quickened my pace as we headed for the parking lot.

She had wanted to see Charlie first, which I thought was all for the better. It was a reunion like all the others that had taken place at Dartmouth: Charlie failed to find any distinct differences between the Bella of Past and the Bella of Present, though he would often send wary glances in her direction when he thought she wouldn't notice, for anyone could see that there was something inexplicably surreal about her now. He never spoke his suspicions outloud, for Bella's sake, as he always assumed her ill (and subsequently blamed me), but I didn't have to tell Bella for her to notice. She hid most of her paleness and diluted the brightness of her eyes through the wonders of cosmetics, but she couldn't rid herself of the ethereal grace that she now possessed. Charlie merely amounted the changes to Bella's growing up. And he couldn't stop saying how beautiful she'd grown.

It was during our time with Charlie—the long ride "home" from the train station, the hours spent "catching up" in the living room, and the torturous process of stomaching human food that I began to thoroughly wonder what was going to happen when Bella's parents grew inevitably older, but she remained dazzling and youthful—was she going to blame her beauty on plastic surgery? On some new fad involving green tea and grape juice? On having discovered the Fountain of Youth? What was going to happen when she was forced to explain that they would never be grandparents, explain why she ate so little and with such little fervor, explain why she couldn't travel to a tropical vacation spot with them or something else that's bound to happen and have no logical, natural explanation? I sat at the table, feeling heavy as Bella and her father laughed about some story from her childhood.

For the first time since I first saw her in the sunlight as a vampire, I allowed myself to wonder what she looked like to mortal eyes—she is beyond perfection to my heightened senses, she always was, but what about to those whose understanding of the world is dulled? Was she too bright and too beautiful for their minds to comprehend that they simply did not see her at all? I tried to see as a mortal would see, continuing my avid observation all throughout the visit at Charlie's.

Without warning, my feelings at the train station began to seep back into their horrible places in my mind and intensified. For the first time since her transformation—I can still barely allow myself to remember it, so loud and cutting were her screams—I allowed myself to really _see_ her... As I looked at her, I wondered how I could deserve her, deserve to be around her when I had already taken so much from her. The soft blush that had painted her cheeks—and the deepened color of embarrassment that I loved so much—was replaced by smooth, stunning alabaster. The soft ring of her laughter was no longer audible to my ears—now it seems more like a beautiful song, a set of perfectly harmonized charms that float over the air. Before, they had been small clinking notes without pattern or key. Bella's breathing had been such a comfort when she was alive... it had longer, deeper strokes than most humans, reminiscent of the waves of the ocean. Now—I remembered Bella's horror and how futilely she tried to hide it when she first realized—she would sometimes forget to breathe at all. Now she had to force herself to maintain the pattern.

I know she loves me. There is no doubt. But no one, not me, especially, is worth giving up her love for life. I wanted to believe that it wasn't life itself that Bella loved... it was the familiarity of being alive that she missed. I wanted to believe her when she told me that she would grow used to it, that she would grow to love being undead as much as she had loved being alive, but I couldn't ever bring himself to do it.

I remember Bella suddenly rising and collecting the dinner plates then, preparing to wash the dishes. Charlie rose to help, but Bella shooed him away, smiling with such a smile of persuasion that anyone would have done anything she desired. And I, already having vowed to do so before seeing that smile, wondered again for the millionth time that night how I could deserve something like her. I sensed Charlie move to the living room and vaguely heard the television turn onto the sports channel, but I was watching Bella methodically rinse out a glass. I stood silently, barely aware of my own movements, and came to her side, taking hold of a dish towel and proceeding to dry. She smiled at me and I was reminded of why my selfishness had allowed me to keep her.

But the mindset only stayed for a few minutes. Our silent system of washing the dishes returned my thoughts back to my observations. Bella always joked about how death had failed to take her clumsiness... but she didn't realize how fluid her movements had grown. Just by watching her work her fingers through the cloth and slide it along the edge of the plate, I had to force my hands to restrain themselves, had to keep every muscle in my being in line in order to keep myself from making her drop the insignificant dish and reaching out to her and holding her and never letting her go. It was the younger days all over again... I was forced to maintain self-control, I was never going to be satisfied with the amount of time I was going to be around her, was never going to be content with our proximity, was never completely satiated unless I was always around her, beside her, within her. Such was my selfishness.

"_Careful," _she warned me suddenly. "_You're going to turn that glass into sand if you keep rubbing it like that._"

I looked down at the exceptionally shiny glass before putting it in the cabinet and taking up the plate she'd finished washing. Bella continued on with her chores and I continued on with my thoughts. Before, the light bounce that had been evident in her step had reflected her cheerfulness, her happiness... and now, it was as if she glided across the ground. In comparison, her step beforehand might as well have been hindered by cement blocks bound to her feet. Now... Now Bella floated almost, her unyielding grace making almost every step seem a dance that no one else could hope to perform.

What did Charlie see when he saw her? It was obviously Bella—her face, her demeanor, her essence, and yet it wasn't. When I see Bella, I see _Bella, _my love for whom will never change—it can't grow, it's too all-consuming that I can't imagine it spreading any deeper into my being, can't imagine it swelling any larger as it already envelopes all of my senses, all of my thoughts, all of me. But who _is _Bella now? What does her father see, when he gazes upon his undead daughter?

I'd ignored it long enough in my selfishness, but my love for her has finally let me acknowledge the truth that I'd known and avoided all along: I killed her. Not the surface of murder that was obvious from the three days of pain and change and death and not the surface of murder that is reflected in her flashing eyes, but the inexcusable murder that is killing the small things about a person that made them who they are, even if the substitutes are just as easy to love because they are not and will never be the same. It sounds horribly inadequate, even now, but I realized in that one moment, years after she became my wife and my eternal lover, the extent of what I'd done. Bella _was _Bella; I loved her as I had when I first fell in love with her, but she was not that girl anymore.

And suddenly, I allowed my mind to take one step further and ask the question that I'd been dreading for the both of us for as long as I can remember: What would _Jacob _see?

I heard the sound of the plate shattering before I felt it in my hand. Bella shrieked in shock, but the sound was dull in comparison to the shrillness of her earlier days—she could probably sense the plate breaking before it actually happened. The moments before Charlie was at the entrance to the kitchen felt like an eternity to us; by the time he was there, the mess was safely disposed of and we were back to our business of cleaning the next set of dishes. He demanded to know what had happened, but Bella placated him with a quick story (she could lie now, she had never been a good liar) of how he must have imagined the noise and the sound from her had only been caused by a seemingly dangerous spider. Calm enough, it wasn't long before Charlie returned to the couch and it wasn't much longer before he fell asleep. Bella turned on me at once, however, with such burning eyes that I didn't know whether to sweep her away into the woods where we could be alone or to fall to the ground and beg on my knees, though for what exactly, I had no idea. Instead, I regrettably decided to continue drying my dish and merely whispered, "_You and I need to talk." _

Bella looked at me then with such an expression that I could never properly describe. I so wished, not for the first time, that I could read her mind, hear the millions of questions running through her thoughts. Instead I dealt with what I _could _see: the slight nod of her head, the slight furrowing of her perfect brow, and the small tilt of the frown that plagued her lips.

The trek up her staircase felt surreal—I had hardly ever traveled it in the years before, but for some reason it seemed more familiar than ever. It was being in Bella's room that was the real foreign experience. Everything had remained in its rightful place; nothing had been moved a fraction of an inch.

"_He misses you," _I said quietly, taking in the sight as Bella moved to sit on the bed. I leaned against the doorframe, not for the support, but because I couldn't bring myself to take another step closer to what used to be my sanctuary. "_It's hard for him, being able to see you only so often._" Bella shifted uncomfortably on the covers.

"_He wouldn't have been able to see me anymore often if I were alive, Edward,_" Bella said with finality, as if that would erase my guilt and ease my suffering. "_I still would have a limited amount of visitation time in college as a mortal, so don't you dare try to put the blame on yourself._"

"_But what about after you graduate?" _I asked, forcing myself to stare out the window. How many times had I climbed through to her side? _"What will your new excuse be?" _Bella was having none of it; she still wasn't allowing herself to think that far ahead.

"_You haven't told me what happened in the kitchen," _she said gently, but with a seriousness that made it all the more difficult for me not to look at her.

"_Isn't it the weirdest thing," _I said slowly, still staring at the tree outside her window. _"I used to watch you fall sleep in this room, from out there. This is where I first decided I was going to protect you for forever."_

Bella was silent for a moment. Then she stood up, gracefully as always, and glided towards me—how one glides in jeans and sneakers is beyond me, but my Bella can, I assure you—turning my chin away from the window and forcing my gaze to meet hers. She was silent but a minute more, but it might as well have been a century.

"_What's going on, Edward?_" She stroked my cheek with her finger; it used to hold such warmth. "_What's wrong?_" She slid closer. "_Why won't you tell me?_"

I stared down at her, willing her eyes to look at me without sadness, without concern, but they didn't comply. I slowly pulled my hand up to cover hers, taking hold of her fingers and pulling them to my lips, taking the time to kiss each knuckle, to feel each line in her palm, to trace my mouth with each of her fingertips. Bella waited, her eyes darting about back and forth as she watched my movements with with more patience than I had ever given her credit for. Finally, I had reached my limit, pulling her in for the first kiss we'd shared since we left our home that morning.

No matter how many times we kiss, each kiss with Bella is like a new experience, like our first kiss. She may be undoubtedly predictable in so many aspects—her compassion, her kindness, her understanding, her selflessness—but there is such a sense of unpredictability about her movements—she's so impulsive, so impetuous, never thinking things through—that makes each time different than the last.

And suddenly, I could hear Charlie shifting downstairs. Bella must have sensed it too, for she instantly tensed and waited for me to read his thoughts upon wakening. With a small, amused smile, I told her, "_Charlie would greatly appreciate it if you and I were to sleep in separate bedrooms tonight_." I tightened my hold around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"_Oh, he thought that, did he now?" _In return, Bella pressed herself further against me. .

"_He might have used a different choice of words, perhaps, but the gist is the same_." There is hardly a greater feeling in the world than resting my chin on the top of her head and taking in the scent of her hair.

"_Then I suppose we'll have to answer his request then, won't we?"_

I nodded. _"It would be the respectful, ethical thing to do." _Charlie's string of thought was taking on a much clearer perspective now and the words were becoming all the more clear and colorful and he began adjusting himself.

"_It _would _be, wouldn't it," _Bella began mischievously. _"If sleep _was_ what we were actually planning on doing. Sleep, however, isn't exactly an appropriate term, as we are no longer capable of accomplishing it. Thus, as we are not planning on sleeping, the whole request is null."_

"_Bella..._"

"_Oh, all right, all right," _Bella pressed her nose into the folds of my shirt, ignoring the fact that we could sense Charlie making his way for the staircase. _"But just until he falls asleep."_ She sighed. _"Goodness, you and your morality need to take a break once and awhile, you know."_

I looked down at her wedding ring; her pale, bloodless fingers were almost as hard and cold as the diamond she wore. "_I think my morality has been lax enough as it is._"

"_Ah, if only it were more so_," Bella smiled happily into my chest. "_And traditional matters of sleeping separately would be the least of Charlie's, if only he knew what really went on between you and I_," she laughed. She had meant it to be light, but all I could see were her cold fingers and my obtrusive diamond resting on her pale skin.

"_...do you mean the nights where I ravish you with kisses or ravish you by sucking the very life out of you with your blood?"_

She pulled back instantly, demanding an explanation with her eyes, but I wouldn't meet her gaze. I kept my own eyes fixed across the room, on some clock with an obnoxiously loud ticking function. I regretted the loss of contact instantly, but I told myself I had to be strong and deal with it. There were far more important issues at hand.

"_Edward..._"

"_Charlie's coming,_" I managed.

"_I know he is, I can sense him too, you know—_"

"_I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything against you, force of habit—_"

But she and I were already in our proper positions before I had time to finish or Charlie had time to open the door. I sat comfortably in her computer chair, pretending to be interested in some trinket from her previous life while Bella sat on the bed with a magazine and was laughing and telling me some some joke she found near the back of the issue. It amazed me, how easily she feigned surprise when he entered. She had never been a very good liar. But apparently we weren't skilled enough actors to lessen the tension that surely must have been visible to Charlie when we entered—he seemed in a surprisingly good mood when he informed me that the couch was in as good a shape as ever for my presence. I'm sure he was glowing with joy when I left with a mere unenthusiastic goodnight to the both of them, as well.

I would have waited longer after I was sure Charlie was asleep to return, but I was sure that if I tried, she would come to me. I didn't creep up the stairs so much as I flew, but that didn't stop Bella:

"_You're late,"_ she said tersely. Her arms were crossed and I was going to receive no mercy, I was sure of it.

"_It appears that even marriage isn't enough to prove our love to your father," _I said ungracefully, at the lack of anything better to say. _"Apparently he still wants me gone."_

"_His marriage ended, if you remember," _Bella continued staring at me. _"And I don't understand what makes you think he'd want you gone."_

I wondered if she'd noticed the smile that lit up his face when he returned to his room, hoping to have confirmed a disturbance in our happiness. I didn't think it wise to mention it at that point, however. I wanted to tell her that her mother and father didn't share a love like ours, too, but with the look on her face, I decided it might be best not to. I expected her to ask me what was wrong again, but she didn't.

"_You still feel guilty," _Bella said quietly. _"You still regret turning me."_

I didn't know what to say. Any other day I would have whole-heartedly denied it, disagreed, but after today, after looking at the cold shell I'd left her with, I couldn't bring myself to find something to say. She took my silence as her answer.

"_It's my fault,"_ Bella said suddenly, to my horror. My head snapped up instantly, but I hadn't completely understood what she'd said. _"I still feel terrible for making such a fuss during my transformation—if I had only just controlled myself from being such a baby about it and from, from screaming so loudly about it you wouldn't—"_

Word wouldn't quiet her fast enough, so I did so with my lips. I remained there, so as not to give her another chance to speak, so as not to allow her to continue on with her words of madness. When at last I pulled away, I could barely contain the sadness in my voice, "_What are you talking about, you silly girl?" _She shook her head and buried her face in my shirt, clutching the folds as I rocked her back and forth on the bed. In that moment, she had quelled all of my concerns.

Bella was Bella. It didn't matter what color or how warm her skin was because she would always be inside and anyone who couldn't see that was a fool. I may have taken some things from her and made her sacrifice others, but I can spend the rest of forever making it up to her with things that she would never have been able to have before, I will make sure of it.

"_Listen to me_," I told her. "_I love you. I _love_ you and I will never stop and I love what you were and I love what you've become and that will never change... but I can't help but wonder if that goes for everyone. You've _changed_, Bella_." I kissed her temple, the bridge of her nose, the corners of her eyes, the tips of her ears, the hills of her mouth, anywhere I could find. She had shut her eyes against my words, but she heard them and knew they were true. "_These things don't make me love you any less—they couldn't, not ever... but you realize that I've killed you_." Bella tried to interrupt, but I silenced her once more. "_Of course I killed you, I killed parts of you that were yours and yours alone._" I stroked her hair gently, as we laid back on the covers. "_I can't imagine what Jacob will think_," I heard her sharp intake of breath, but continued. "_I suspect that I deserve everything that Jacob could ever wish to do to me, for what I've done to you... but I don't regret it. I don't regret giving you an opportunity to experience what so many will never know exists, I don't regret allowing you to become what you've become, and I don't regret having what we have_." I kissed her hair gently. "_I don't have any regrets with you._"

And I meant it.

&

She went to La Push the very next morning, before the sun had even begun to rise. We weren't going to be able to see it no matter what time it was, so cloudy was the sky that day, but it for one, the added security of the remaining nighttime comforted Bella and two, she simply couldn't wait any longer.

The circumstances surrounding their reunion was tricky. Bella was no longer neutral territory—_Switzerland_—and whether or not she was still safe on werewolf territory was completely unknown. But she went—without even bothering to ask Charlie to call Billy, without permission, without warning. She left in her truck—Charlie had kept it up and running—just before daylight and that was it. She forbid me to go with her. It was just her and Jacob and I could run and wait for her on the border and meet her at sunset, if I pleased. But this was just her and Jacob. I kissed her goodbye, and she went.

And I did exactly that. I waited enough time to be sure that she would have made it to La Push and then I ran. I ran and found her truck on the border and sat and waited. Until sunset.

And then I saw them. Bare silhouettes at the edge of the trees, close together.

Apparently, Jacob had forgotten what it was like to monitor and control his thoughts around me. Upon seeing me, his subconscious retraced his entire experience with Bella. His thoughts flooded mine, a mixture of dialogue and ideas and feelings meshing together so quickly that my own head began to spin. I had to steady myself against the side of Bella's truck with my right hand and placate my throbbing temple with my left. Sure enough, Jacob's memory was as vivid as ever. Flashes and fragments and suddenly—I was there.

&

Bella was leaning forward hesitantly, one hand clasped tightly over her nose and the other clenched into a tiny fist at her side. She swallowed roughly, obviously having to work exceptionally hard not to break eye contact and not to grimace in disgust. She looked like she was in pain.

Jacob's perspective of her was low, from the ground—from a dangerous crouch, from someone on the offensive, from someone prepared to strike. Bella's beautiful face was crumpling slightly, most likely from the intense stare Jacob was brewing.

&

_Oh God, it's just like—just like I thought—she's right there—it's _her. _Her scent is still under that disgusting— _

_&_

"You can take your hand away," Jacob spit viciously under his breath. "At least, if you can handle it. This ain't no picnic for me either." His voice was different. Acidic.

Bella's hand dropped instantly, but it revealed an ashamed, involuntary frown. Her intakes of breath were so short and brief that they were mere sniffs, but her exhales always lasted four times as long.

"Who says you even have to bother to smell it?" Jacob's malicious voice carried over the whole beach. Bella was at least twenty yards away. "I hear breathing is only option for _your kind_."

_&_

_This isn't her—this can't be. It's worse than I imagined—everything—it's all—she's gone. She's gone. She's gone. Bella's gone._

&

"I didn't come back just to see Charlie, you know."

"Oh, what, you came back to get a glance at the scenery? You sure know how to pick your vacation spots. Too bad you couldn't have gone to Hawaii like all the other newlyweds. I'm sure you would have enjoyed the _sun_ a bit more there."

"Dammit, Jacob, you know I wanted to see you too."

"Well, now you have. Why don't you leave?"

&

"You know, it's one thing, what Sam and Billy did, still upholding the treaty after what you've done, but it's another for you to completely disregard what they did for you and your fucking swarm of insects to come parading around and showing off your inability to keep up your side of the bargain."

"_Jake_—"

"Don't. You never were good at keeping promises. Why should that have been any different, right?"

&

_Different—she's different—then why can I still _smell _her?_

&

"My body betrays this fact, but I'm colder than your boyfriend now, my dear _Bella_." The added venom made it sound like profanity. Jacob spit into the rocky sand, as if uttering the name left an unbearably dirty taste in his mouth. The heat rolled off of him in waves and Bella was fighting to stand her ground. "Or should I say, your _husband_." He eyed the ring on her finger, glinting in the sun.

&

_I can't take this. I'm going insane, I have to be._

&

"I see you still have that charm. Oh, don't worry, keep it, it was a gift. It suits you actually. You know, savagely cut out of a living being to be carved and transformed into a mere shadow and reminder of its former life, but became far prettier in the end. Fits, right?"

"Is that what you were thinking of, Jacob, when you decided to make it for me?" Bella was much closer—a mere five feet away. She was holding up the charm to examine it thoughtfully.

"No," Jacob said coldly. "I made it because you didn't seem to like anything else I had to give."

"That's not fair." She turned to him—_Oh God, herbrowneyesaregonewherearethey_? "You knew how I felt about both of you."

A deep, calming breath. "Doesn't make any difference."

&

_What am I doing?_

_&_

She was next to him. They were sitting on a stump or a log of some sort—_Our place, this was our place, it's ours—_and they were only a mere foot apart, leaning their elbows on their knees and looking at the water.

"Do you really wish that I would have just died instead?"

&

_What the_ hell _am I _doing_?_

&

"Remember how you promised that you would never, ever hurt me?"

"Vividly."

"...do you still think you've kept that promise?"

"…you're still not upset about that time you broke your hand, are you?"

&

_This is wrong. This is more than wrong. This is _beyond _wrong. I should hate her again—I should hate her for coming here—I should hate her for what she did to herself—I should hate her for letting him do what he he did—I should hate her for keeping that charm—I should—_

&

"What's it like... without the sun?"

Bella was quiet for a moment. "It's not really the actual sunlight from the sky that I miss... though I do miss that from another sun. You know... my own sun." _My sun_. She looked at Jacob hesitantly. "The sun I used to get from a rather, large, obnoxious sort of creature?" She looked down and her hair veiled her face like it used to, when she wanted to hide the fact that she was crying, but tears were impossible now. "That's the sun that really matters... the other one's just for show."

"And yet you've got yourself that eternal eclipse," Jacob spoke slowly. "Is it worth it?"

"Is what worth it?"

"Is going through eternity without your sun, the sun that matters, worth the darkness?"

Bella took a moment to respond. She whispered, but with conviction. "...it's not completely dark. Even during an eclipse you can still see a little of the sun underneath. Even during an eclipse as strong as that... well, the sun behind it still shines just as brightly... and you can still see it around the edges... burning its way around into view."

&

"What's the worst part?" Jacob asked. His voice was low and quiet and sad. He stared at the horizon as he sat on the rocky beach, Bella beside him, her finger drawing patterns on his palm, which was cradled in her lap. She didn't hesitate, but her voice was just as quiet.

"Losing you." _Who says you lost me? Who says you _have _to lose me?_

&

I_ did._

_&_

"No, really. What was the worst part?" He repeated. Bella paused and licked her lips... such a mortal habit that didn't escape Jacob's notice and he shifted uncomfortably on the rocks.

"You never said goodbye."

Jacob chuckled sadly. "It would never have been enough."

&

"It would have been less painful if you'd been completely different... if all of you were gone, rather than you still being inside."

_If you didn't still smell like you. If you didn't still look like you. If you still didn't act, didn't sound, didn't feel like you—even if your hair is brighter and your skin is colder and your eyes are warmer and your laugh is softer it wouldn't hurt so much if I couldn't _tell_ it was you._

&

"How long did it take before you... before you decided to cut your hair?"

&

They were together.

It was hard to see with Jacob's eyes watering and then suddenly it there was only darkness and the sound of voices as he closed his eyes. But Jacob was holding Bella more tightly than ever before—_she used to be so fragile—_and Bella was holding him back and _there's no better feeling in the universe than being like this with my chin on her head and my nose in her hair._

"You... you came? To the wedding? You were there and I—I never..."

"You were distracted by other things."

"But Leah told me—she said that you weren't coming, that you weren't going to go—"

"...would it have changed anything if you had seen me there?"

A pause. "I could have seen you. Just one more time."

"So nothing would have changed." _Nothing would have changed_. His grip tightened. "You know, it was the last time I really saw you. The time before that was when you came to visit me, when I was injured. But you were all... all made up. And I couldn't think of anything except how beautiful you were... well, sort of beautiful, anyway." _Nothing would have changed_.

&

_Nothing would have changed._

&

Jacob's head was resting against Bella's but his eyes were still closed and his breathing had suddenly become very ragged and torn and there was something wet running down his cheeks. Bella's grasp was painful, even for Jacob.

&

_Nothing's going to change. But we have to change—we have to _make_ it change—we have to—_

&

"Damn_, I forgot how much I hate that._" Jacob swore loudly. "_Stay the fuck out of my head, Cullen._"

It took me a moment for my eyesight to readjust. And then I realized that Jacob had caught on to my front-row seat preview into his memory bank. I nodded and muttered an apology, somehow dazed from the transaction. Bella was moving to my side, releasing the hand that she had been holding to walk to the passenger side of the car and let herself in. Jacob watched her go—longingly, regretfully, relievedly... I made sure to stay out of his head, to grant him his privacy as best I could. Though I couldn't help imagining how much more meaning the look had held. She sent him a glance as she got in the car, a small trace of a small smile and he turned and was gone.

"_Are you all right_?" I had asked her, immediately, as I got into the car and began looking her over for any signs of abnormality or distress. "_How did it go_?"

That barest trace of a smile still graced her lips. "_We were just... mending some broken ends._" She turned back to look at the edge of the forest that led back down to La Push. "_They haven't all been fixed yet._" Her voice was soft and fragile. "_There's still a few that we have to take care of, but... i__t's okay_." She turned to me and locked and laced her fingers with mine. "_After all,_" she smiled and pulled me along, away from the line of trees. "_I have the rest of forever to make it up to him._"


End file.
